


Where Elliot Is

by Lovemyboysinblue



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Olivia struggles with her past, Random ask-out, Tricky case
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 09:25:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7262320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovemyboysinblue/pseuds/Lovemyboysinblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stabler asks Benson a question that surprises her and then things get a bit awkward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Elliot Is

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this YEARS ago when Olivia/Elliot were still partners and when we were all hoping they would get it on already. Might develop this story more (been watching a lot of reruns haha) or could leave as one-shot. Please review kindly, it’s my first time!

Olivia shook her coat off and sighed as she fell into her seat. All night and morning she had been unable to shake the interview with Benjamin Liam from her mind.   
"Morning."   
Across the clutter of their desks, Elliot leaned back in his chair with the phone nonchalantly hooked between right jaw and shoulder. His eyes were unfocused. She supposed he was on hold. She remembered a similar moment taking place a year ago. They had been fighting; she had thought the husband was a rapist bastard and he’d thought the wife was lying. They’d made some conversation by way of meek reconciliation. In the end, Elliot was right. She had lied about being raped. But the epilogue was worse. The woman, Valerie if memory served, was burned alive by her non-rapist. Elliot lifted his chin from the receiver slightly. His eyes focused somewhat."How was Liam?" Olivia shrugged. She drew Catherine Liam’s file towards her and opened it.   
"Uncooperative. Lawyered up as soon as I asked about Catherine. He said she and I had--’ She kicked herself for both failing to check herself before speaking and failing to inconspicuously smooth over her mistake. Some cop. "You have something in common, you and my wife." Liam had grinned. "You’re both shook up because of something someone else had done." In time to Olivia’s heartbeat pounding, Benjamin Liam had followed this zinger with a bright white smile that she had to stop herself from smashing out of his smug head. His lawyer had shot him a questioning look. A feeling of nausea had overcome her and she’d left the interrogation room without a word. Fortunately, Elliot didn’t seem to notice this thought train, or at least had the courtesy not to comment. He just nodded and continued to stare vacantly at his desk.  
  
Olivia opened the file and flicked through to the charges that were laid against Catherine Liam four years prior. Fraud, obstructing a police investigation, failure to cooperate...  
"Doing anything later?" said Elliot.  
Olivia glanced up to make sure the question was directed at her and not whoever was on the other end of his line.   
"Not much," she replied. "Might head over to Ron Filcher’s, see what he has to say about his sister’s chronic lying."   
"Want to grab a bite after that?"   
"Sure. Did you have a place in mind?" Elliot lifted a shoulder and dropped it.   
"The River Café’s sort of on the way." ...Lying to police, filing a false report. Catherine was going to be a tough one to pin as the vic. Olivia smiled idly, still perusing the file.  
"Isn’t that a bit romantic for your taste?" He didn’t reply.   
Olivia looked across at her partner again and was shocked to see her partner of nine years looking slightly flushed. "Elliot?" Hearing his name made him uneasy. He cleared his throat loudly and replaced the phone on the hook, avoiding her eye. He reached for the phone directory and opened it. She stared. "Forget about it," he said, shrugging again. His Brooklyn accent was suddenly prominent and he was aware of it. The voice that had warned him bad idea, bad idea from the beginning was now performing a victory lap in his head. He cleared his throat again. Olivia watched him, incredulous.   
When it became clear that he wasn’t about to lift his gaze from the pages of the directory, she uncomfortably lowered her own.  
  
  
  
  
  
"I took you back," Kathy began, her voice sounding in that dangerous way that told Elliot he should run. "I took you back because I thought you’d changed. You said you wanted to come home."   
"You know I did," he tried.   
"But you didn’t come back! You’re still there, where you’ve always been."   
"Kathy-–’ His voice was now a hoarse whisper. She saw the desperation in his eyes that had been there since he walked back into her life, as though he were constantly trying to revive what they’d lost. During their divorce, it had been mingled with the love she knew he felt for her and wasn’t given a chance to show. Now, nothing. Now there was just desperation, even regret and pity. She had missed her chance, and her throat tightened when she realized she was screaming at herself as much as him. Her body crumpled in on itself and she let the tears flow freely. Elliot was immediately pulling her up and bringing her to the couch. He held her until she collected herself. All the while, they both knew he wasn’t there anymore. Elliot felt like he was observing an entirely different man rocking his sobbing wife gently in his arms. He breathed in the coconut scent that always lingered in her hair. He had made her a part of his life and soul for so many years, but at that moment she was a stranger. The experience totally different from the surging love he once felt for her as it was from the white-hot rage that had run through him during the months of their divorce. This was a profound sadness that accompanied the knowledge that there was nothing left. Upstairs, Little Eli began to cry.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
As the car pulled up outside number 56 Wayland Place, the tension within had reached new heights. Their eyes met for a brief, painful second before they turned and got out of the car. "Any priors with this guy?" Elliot asked, thrusting his hands into his pockets.  
"Not unless you count neighbors complaining about loud parties." Their feet kicked up the brown leaves lining the sidewalk.   
It was a typical late autumn afternoon in lower Manhattan. For about ten minutes before they stopped, the houses zooming past were one-storey and white-washed, swimming in ever-increasing layers of autumn foliage. A leaf fell into Olivia’s hair as they reached the porch and she brushed it away impatiently. After Elliot rapped on the door, he became fascinated with the porch light. Olivia kept her gaze trained on the considerably large gaps in the floorboards. The sound of steps arriving on the other side of the door was greeted with immense silent relief by both.   
"Yeah?" The man was more or less exactly what Olivia expected. In his thirties, red hair like his sister’s, gangly and unkempt, bleary-eyed, sporting a beer stain on his wife-beater. The smell of beer and smoke wafted through the screen. She could sense Elliot's disapproval.   
"Mr. Filcher?" said Olivia. A quick glance confirmed that Elliot’s jaw was locked. Knowing which of them was to take first chair in an investigation had become second nature over the years.   
"Who are you?"   
"Detective Benson, this is Detective Stabler, we’re with the NYPD."   
Ron Filcher burped.   
"This about Catherine again?"   
"We were hoping you could help us. Do you mind if we come in?" He emitted a noise of acquiescence and the screen door swung open. The detectives stepped into a small lounge room which, unlike its resident, was immaculately kept. Olivia sat on the green sofa, staring around at the spotless oak furnishings. Ron hiccoughed and dragged a chair from the nearby dining set closer to the sofa than was necessary. He straddled it. Elliot planted himself near the front door.   
"What’s she done now?" Ron fixed Olivia with something close to a leer. He appeared to have missed several days’ worth of shaving.   
"She’s done nothing, Mr. Filcher," retorted Olivia. "She’s been raped." Though the detectives by this stage didn’t expect him to fall over himself with concern for his sister, they were taken aback by his harsh laugh. "Sure she has. That what she’s telling ya?"   
"She has the bruises to prove it."   
"Please." He made a sucking noise with his tongue. Olivia stared him down, wondering how one went about convincing a drunk hick that his sister was forced into having sex beyond any reasonable doubt. Oddly, instead of staring back defiantly as was customary for those strongly in denial, his eyes flicked about the room restlessly. Olivia wondered if he was high.  
"You think she’s lying?"   
"She’s done it before," he claimed, briefly resting his eyes on her face. They performed a familiar flick from her eyes to her chest. "You should see her record."   
"We have. She was acquitted from most of the charges."   
"Means you guys ain’t doing your jobs right."   
"So you don’t believe she was wrongly accused?" He leered again, this time with a suggestive brow raise. "No, ma’am."   
There goes a character witness. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Filcher."   
As Olivia got off the sofa, a young Hispanic maid entered the room from a doorway. "Oh, pardon Signor Filcher," she said, flustered. "I did not know you had guests. Would you like refreshment?"   
"No, that’s okay," said Olivia, then realizing how his house was so well maintained. "We were just leaving."   
"Little quicker next time, Flora," drawled Ron as he stood to his feet. "I’m not paying you to sit on your ass."   
"Si, signor."   
Elliot suspiciously watched the maid retreat. Olivia caught his glance. He walked a few paces towards Ron. "How is it a guy like you can afford a housekeeper?" he asked coolly. Olivia paused at the doorway. Ron, like most men, had to stare up at the detective when he was in interrogation mode. He drew himself up and swallowed. "I don’t like your tone, or what you’re insinuating," he stated clearly. Olivia was surprised his vocabulary extended to the word "tone’. "I get by okay. Not that it’s any of your business."   
"And what is it that you do?" said Olivia.   
"I’m in autoparts." He said it as though he were declaring his post as mayor.   
Before Elliot could retort with something undoubtedly unhelpful, Olivia cut in. "We’ll stay in touch, Mr. Filcher." She allowed herself out and walked towards the car. Elliot’s footsteps caught up.   
"We should talk to the maid," he said. She recognized the lilt in his voice. He was looking for a fight. She felt the beginnings of a scowl. "Maybe the guy’s telling the truth," she said.   
"Since when do you take the word of a sleazebag over a victim?"   
"This isn’t about Catherine, and anyway I don’t think he’ll be all that happy about us barging in again –"  
"Problem solved." Olivia turned to see the housekeeper walking down the side of the house carrying two hefty garbage bags. Elliot strode in her direction without further ado. Olivia sighed.   
"Excuse me?" The woman paused, glanced at Elliot nervously, then proceeded to open the trash lid and dump the bags in. "Can I get your name?"   
"Flor Hondres."   
"How long you been working for him, Miss Hondres?"   
"About three weeks." She turned to face him properly after a quick glance at the house.   
"He a good guy to work for?" The woman appealed to Olivia with her eyes and was met with all the reassurance Olivia could spare.   
"Not really," she admitted, toeing the ground. "He is very demanding, Signor Filcher."   
"He ever hit you?" Olivia shot her partner a warning look. The woman immediately looked petrified. "Oh no, signor, nothing like that," she said hurriedly. "He just very angry at times, yell a bit, that’s it. Please signor, if I say anything bad, my boss will fire me. I must go."   
"What you say won’t reach Mr. Filcher," Elliot assured her.   
"No, not him," she said with just a hint of impatience. "Signor Liam." Olivia and Elliot exchanged quick glances. She felt a strange resentment that his hunch had been right.   
"You work for Benjamin Liam?" said Elliot.   
"Si, for many years now."   
"So how did you come to work at Mr. Filcher’s?"   
"Signor Liam tell me it’s temporary," she said, obviously dying to return to the house. "He double my pay for the next few months to work for Signor Filcher instead." Elliot was going to ask whether she knew why, but instinct was telling him she’d already told them everything she knew. "Thank you, Miss Hondres." She nodded and hurried away. Elliot and Olivia turned towards the car again.   
"Some kind of deal between Liam and Filcher?" said Olivia, if anything to break any potential tension.   
"What kind of deal involves swapping maids?"   
"Who knows. But I’m betting the furniture in that place wasn’t there a few weeks ago either."   
"Bribery?"   
"Yeah, probably to keep his mouth shut. Maybe Catherine came to him after the attack."   
"You really think a girl would come running to that guy for moral support?"   
"Either way, Benjamin Liam had some reason to zip him up. Want to argue that he’s just a great brother-in-law?" They reached the car and Olivia walked around to the passenger side. The conversation sounded routine, but she couldn’t help detecting a trace of antagonism somewhere between the lines.   
"By the way," said Elliot as he opened the car door. She tensed, waiting for the blow. "You objecting to everything I suggest is wearing a little thin." Olivia gawked at the spot above the car from where his head disappeared for a few seconds. He started the car before she sat down.   
"Are you kidding me?" she heard herself say, unfounded anger bubbling to the surface. "Elliot, if you’re referring to--"   
"I’m not referring to anything," interrupted Elliot, a little louder than he intended. He eased the car onto the road, trying to keep the humiliation from showing on his face. "I’m just saying, it seems like you’ve had a problem with everything I’ve had to say about the case so far." He left it with an upward inflection, as though he had more to say or hoped she would interrupt him in turn. For the moment Olivia was too taken aback to respond. They drove in heavy, awkward silence for several minutes. She eventually decided it was her turn.   
"By the way," she said and saw that he twitched a little. "You caught me off-guard."   
She sounded more apologetic than she intended.  
"I don’t want to talk about it," he said briskly. She sighed.   
  
  
  
  
  
Munch was getting off the phone when Fin walked into the squad room bearing gifts of coffee. "Got anything on our man Liam?" he asked, setting down the foam cups.  
"Apparently the guy’s had as many sexual harassment complaints against his name as I’ve had wives."   
"Glad to see that joke hasn’t gotten old on you."   
"But the interesting thing is they all recanted."   
"Your wives?"   
"God, I hope not."   
Cragen appeared by their desks. "What’s the word?"   
Munch handed him the pad on which he had jotted down the names that Benjamin Liam’s spurned ex-secretary had happily divulged. "Four separate cases of harassment between 05 and 07, but not one went through with the complaint," informed Munch. "What are the chances they’re all living it up in penthouses?" added Fin. "Elliot and Olivia suspect Catherine’s own brother’ already folded for his bribes."   
"Big calls," said Cragen. "Remember, he’s a CEO, put some evidence on it. Track down some of these women, see if you can’t get them to pit against Liam despite the penthouses."   
"Sure thing, Captain." Cragen disappeared into his office. Munch made a face. "He’s clearly never seen an Upper West Side penthouse."   
  
  
  
  
Olivia found herself living and breathing the cliché as she sat beside her partner in the waiting room of Liam and Freeman Inc. It was the longest five minutes of her life. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Elliot’s leg rapidly twitch up and down not very far from her own. His fingers were intertwined on his lap. Not once did they look at each other. She idly toyed with the idea of accepting his offer simply to do away with the unbelievable tension. "Detectives?" said a small voice. The blond secretary they’d spoken to earlier was standing in a doorway with a clipboard.   
"Mr. Liam will see you now." Benjamin Liam’s corner office offered a breathtaking view of the West Side. He sat with his back to it, busily rifling through some documents on his desk. When he glanced up, his bright hazel eyes immediately locked on Olivia’s. He ran a hand through his thick salt-and-pepper hair and removed his glasses. "Nice to see you again, detectives," he said smoothly. "Are you going to unceremoniously cart me off to the precinct again? I would have to tell Beck to put my meetings on hold."   
"What can you tell us about Martha Green, Mr. Liam?" said Olivia, deciding she wasn’t in the mood to waste any time.  
"What about her?" said Liam without missing a beat.   
"Not ringing any sexual harassment bells?" said Elliot, hands behind his back. "How about Felicity Struthers?" "Gillian Ford?" "Samantha Hopkins?" Elliot watched him carefully. As each name dropped, the bastard didn’t so much as blink. And his gaze didn’t waver from Olivia for a second.   
"They all worked for me at some point," he answered politely. Elliot felt his fists clench against his spine. "What would persuade all of them to file claims?" he persisted, keeping his voice even.  
"Look –’ Liam began, raising his hands. "Let me guess," said Elliot, turning from him and walking towards the window. "They were all innocent misunderstandings and that’s also why they recanted?" Liam shrugged slowly. "What do you want me to tell you?"   
"For starters, you can give us one good reason why these women won’t testify at your trial," said Olivia. "What trial?" he said with a casual laugh. "Is this some sort of intimidation tactic? I’m not even under arrest. In fact, I only allowed you in my office because of the, ah, shared understanding between myself and Detective Benson." Olivia froze, feeling Elliot’s stare on the back of her head. She pushed aside the terrifying question of how the man knew.   
"Mr. Liam," she said, lowering her voice faintly. "We’re asking you for your wife’s sake. If you just consent to a DNA test, you can make all of this go away." He smiled then. "What makes you think I want to make it go away?" No sooner had the words left his mouth than Elliot’s phone rang shrilly. He drew it out of his coat pocket, Liam’s words still reverberating in his head, and his stomach flipped over at the name on the screen. He left the room abruptly after throwing Liam a dangerous look. Olivia felt distinctly deserted.   
"Well," remarked Liam crisply, swiveling his chair and getting to his feet. "While it’s just the two of us, why not have a drink?"   
She smiled, trying not to imagine sharks. "Because I’m not in the habit of drinking with rapists, Mr. Liam."   
He chuckled to himself and walked towards the door through which Elliot had left. "Beck, hold my calls," he said into the hallway. "Yes, sir," came the sugary reply. He turned back and undid a single button in his blazer before fixing his tie. Although he made no move towards Olivia, she itched to get as far away as possible. Instead she lifted her chin.   
"You know, I’m getting tired of whatever game you’re playing," she said curtly, fixing him with her best glare. "We’ll get a subpoena for your DNA, so expect another visit from us." It took her several steps towards the door to realize Liam wasn’t moving out of her way. She was forced to stop inches in front of him.   
"Do you ever get tired of playing the tough cop?" he said, his voice suddenly quiet. Her heart quickened. She felt cornered even though she wasn't. She fought to hold back the memory, which was made infinitely harder by the horrible thought that Liam knew about it.   
"Get out of my way," she said slowly and calmly.   
"Olivia," he said, tilting his head. "I’m only trying to help." His move towards her was very slight but it very nearly sent her over the edge. A few yards away, Elliot finished his brief and tart conversation with his again-soon-to-be ex-wife and slipped the phone back into his pocket with a familiar hollowness. He made for Liam’s office, feeling mildly guilty for abandoning Liv. He stopped short upon seeing Liam moving towards her and closing the office door behind him. He immediately reigned his urge to rush in and snap the bastard’s oily neck. The humiliation he’d suffered today was enough. The last thing he needed was to hear her snide comments about how she could take care of herself. His hands found his coat pockets and he stood firm.   
Inside, Olivia lifted a hand against him and used the other to stop the door mid-close. "Come any further," she said, hearing her voice falter. "And I’ll can you for assaulting a police officer." She forced herself to hold his gaze, seeing past his self-assured smile to a worse time and place. After a few moments of mental impasse, he finally stepped aside.   
She swung the door open and managed to leave at a brisk walk. Elliot stood waiting just outside, presumably having witnessed everything. She felt bitterness inside her welling up and up.   
"Let’s go," she said to the floor before sweeping past him for the elevators. Her hands were shaking.   
  
  
  
  
  
Several blocks later, they sat across from twenty-eight year old Catherine Liam in her modest apartment. They were surrounded by boxes of furniture and belongings she’d salvaged from her old home with Benjamin. Her bruised lip had healed, but the purple scars across her forehead and left cheek stood out on her fair skin. Her eyes pleaded with them.   
"It’s not looking good," Olivia told her gently. "We bluffed enough to make him nervous. But the truth is we don’t have enough for a subpoena, let alone an indictment." Catherine blinked furiously as tears welled up.   
"I knew it," she said, wrapping her arms around herself. "I knew I couldn’t touch him. I shouldn’t have gone through with this."   
"Catherine," Olivia tried again. She looked to Elliot for support without thinking and averted her gaze immediately. "I’m not saying it’s over. It’s just going to take some more time, some more investigating." Catherine bit her lip and stared out the window at the darkening city.   
"Is that all you came here to say?" Elliot took over. "We also need to know if he’s tried to bribe you to keep quiet," he said. She sniffed derisively. "You kidding? He promised me half of Manhattan. Then the gifts turned into threats when he realized I wasn’t caving." Her expression held a flicker of hope when she looked at them again. "Does that help at all?" Olivia felt pity and helplessness for the beautiful, broken creature sitting among the ruins of her life. She hated having to tell the truth. "Only if we find some substantial evidence against him."   
"And there’s no way to link this-–’ She indicated her face. "To him?" Olivia shook her head apologetically. "There’s a separate hunt for your attackers. If there’s any connection between them and your husband, we’ll find it." She nodded.   
  
  
  
  
  
Outside her apartment block, night had fallen. Olivia buttoned her coat and they headed for the car in silence. The wind had picked up. A single car raced by. The sounds of a child laughing echoed nearby. Nothing could have prepared them for the gunshots. The next thing Elliot knew, he was lying face down on the cement with Olivia beside him, both scrabbling for their guns and trying desperately to get a footing. Bullets ricocheted off the pavement far too close for comfort. They dived instinctively behind the nearest car. He felt the thrill of adrenaline as his fingers closed around his gun. When he lifted his head again, Olivia had beaten him on the uptake. She was already crouching. Several more shots were fired.   
"Call for backup," she said breathlessly, and in a heartbeat she was gone. He heard her fire three shots and suddenly there was silence. He gathered himself and ran after her, cursing his reflexes. The police radio felt heavy in his hand as he flicked it on. "This is Detective Stabler NYPD, requesting immediate backup, shots fired on Twenty-Third and Main. Pursuing one or more gunmen on foot." Without bothering to hear the static-filled reply, he picked up speed and tightened his hold of the gun. He watched Olivia round a corner and vanish. He heard her voice warning them to stop or she’d fire. He heard two gunshots. "Olivia?" It was one of those rare moments in Elliot Stabler’s life when the entire world paused until he caught up. His pupils dilated as though they straining to see through the brick. His pounding feet sounded strangely muffled. His exhales were ragged and unbearably loud.   
He rounded the corner and saw Olivia lying on the floor with blood spilling from her chest wounds. He blinked and saw her bent over two injured figures on the ground, taking their pulse. His ears and throat appeared to unclench. The wailing of distant sirens were getting louder. He could breathe normally again. "They’re both alive," Olivia was saying. The figures on the ground were moaning. She stood up and kicked both their weapons a safe distance away before turning to look at him. "You okay?" He nodded and continued panting. Olivia drew out her own radio. "Detective Benson requesting a bus, two young male shooters apprehended with gun shot injuries to legs."   
Twenty minutes later, once the shooters had been taken to hospital and the detectives had assured both Cragen and the medics that they didn’t have a scratch on them, they found themselves walking back towards the car, again in silence. She knew they’d made an unspoken agreement to follow the ambulances to the hospital. "Reckon they were sent by Liam?" said Elliot.  
"Be a pretty big coincidence if they weren’t."  
Elliot grinned at this. "New to Manhattan?" Olivia half-smiled back. Once they were in the car, Elliot debated hotly with himself over saying anything else. He stole a few glances in her direction and remembered his delusion of her lying in the alley.   
For a few moments there was silence. "I’m sorry," he finally told the windshield sincerely. Olivia wasn’t sure if either of them knew what he was apologizing for, but she took it anyway. 


End file.
